Charlie.

So, exactly how twisted is it that last night was the best night of my life? Don’t judge me just yet, just hear me out.

Right. I was just beginning to doze off, at like half two in the morning, when I felt something tugging at the covers. It was Fi, wearing just my T-shirt. I thought I was dreaming, until she slipped in next to me and her skin sent such a bolt through the parts of me it touched that I knew it had to be real. She was saying something, but I couldn’t concentrate. Actually, I was concentrating excellently, but on something else.

“I said, is it okay? I really don’t want to be alone. I’m sorry I was pushing you away today. I can go back to the floor if y-”

I told her to shut up and held her close. She smelt like sugar and chocolate and strawberries and fear and sex. I wanted her so badly it hurt to touch her, but the alternative – not touching her – was even bloody worse.

So I held her. She didn’t cry, but sobbed, only without tears. I thought I could never let go.

*

Fi. 

The first thing I saw when I woke up was black. Nothing but black. I started to struggle, and then I remembered that the vices around me where Charlie’s arms, and that the black was his chest, where my face was being held. It felt good. Then I started to notice other things: the way our legs were entwined, the smell of him, and the shape of him. And now the feeling of his hand playing with my hair, drawing shapes on my back. Without meaning too, I tensed, and the movement of his hand stopped abruptly as he too stiffened, taking my tension to mean the complete opposite of what it actually did…

I was disgusted with myself. How could I be thinking like that about Charlie? He was my best friend, my possibly gay one at that! The only reason I was in his bed in the first place was because –

Oh God. My mum. 

* 

Charlie. 

So she woke up. And didn’t like it. Of course she wouldn’t. I had to grin ruefully at what her reaction would have been if I had started doing what I really wanted to do, what I spent the whole night fantasising about doing. It took every shred of willpower in my possession not to pull her onto me and grind against her, bite her lip, rip off her (my) shirt, and listen to her moans, her gasps, her pants…

What the bloody hell is wrong with me??

* 

I knew the exact moment that she remembered what had happened. To her mum, I mean. There was a little half-sob of dismay, muffled against my chest, followed by her clinging to me for a split second and then pushing me away as she clambered over me to get to the phone. To check on her mum of course. I could only watch silently as she remained seated on my lap, while dialling, while asking for the right ward, the right nurse. I watched as she bit her lip and listened to what was being said, but I could only focus on the way the soft, coral flesh was being pulled by the white tooth, until it flushed from pink, to white, to red. Trying to distract myself, I looked into her eyes, looked at the water that was gathering there, threatening to break free from the green sea of her iris and overflow. I didn’t know what had been said, but as she hung up I realised it must be good news. At that moment, I wanted it to be bad, so she would stay here with me, so I could comfort her. I disgust myself.

*

Fi.

It was good news. Mum had regained consciousness, and was improving by the minute. But they didn’t think I should see her just yet; they thought she should take things slow for a while. I was informed that a Dr White would be seeing her today. A psychiatrist. Fantastic. I felt the rising hysteria as soon as they said his name; what if something she said got her into trouble? But it helped that Charlie was there. It always does, having my little gay boy.

*

Charlie.

She explained everything to me- that her mum’s okay but she can’t see her yet, and something about a shrink. The whole time she was saying it, she was looking at me in that amused way she has which shouldn’t be a turn on but really is. I think everything she does is, to be honest.

Anyway, I asked her what she wanted to do, and she said she wanted to get drunk. Typical, with the friends she has.

*

Fi.

While Charlie went to get the booze, I made a phone call, thinking about how he always gives me what I want. I was still pensive when a voice came on at the other end.

“Hello? Hello? Hellohellohello??”

“Oh, shi- Hey, Alice, it’s Fi”

“Oh, I mean, hi!”

She hadn’t even heard. I didn’t give her any details, just that something had happened and that she shouldn’t worry and that she should please never for the love of God tell anyone anything that I had told her.

Of course she wasn’t happy, but she agreed. She had to.

*

Charlie.

Two hours after we wake up, and she’s off her head. Fi is hilarious when she’s drunk, she alternates from super hyper to super intense. And she can get a bit slutty. I’m ashamed to say the latter is probably the main reason I bloody agreed.